


Shockwave

by LaMalefix



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author.exe has stopped working, Established Relationship, Explosions, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I don't know how to English, M/M, POV Eddie Diaz, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23614306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMalefix/pseuds/LaMalefix
Summary: When a bomb explodes, the area around the explosion becomes over pressurized, resulting in extremely compressed air particles that move faster than the speed of sound. A wave that annihilates space and time and yet exists only for a handful of milliseconds. The initial damage of the wave is what deals the majority of the damage. Even if it lasts only a blink of an eye, the destruction is numbing.And that’s exactly what is happening in Eddie’s chest.Or, a bombing attack strikes a quite smooth shift, and Buck and Eddie really need to have a break.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!  
> This is officially my first (of many others??? - I hope?) Buddie fic!  
> I meant to write something very different, but this plot got stuck in my head and I had to write it down to get rid of it.  
> There's at least one more chapter to go!  
> Enjoy!

Eddie is used to it.

He has heard that ominous noise so many times, so many that he gets sick on New Year’s Eve, even on the 4th of July, when those sounds are distant and lost in the night, and are accompanied by colours.

It isn’t that raging roar, the boom, the thing that makes his blood freeze in his veins, it’s never the roar. Of course, that’s a good trigger, at the beginning, when he had just returned from his last tour, those noises, those bangs in the distance, were enough to make his brain hypervigilant, overstimulated. But at some point, he understood, with therapy, he got to know it. It’s not that raging roar, the boom. But that whistle, that whooshing sound afterwards.

On his first tour, his companions in Afghanistan, a little more experienced than him, explained to him that it is that vacuum left by the explosion that causes that noise.

At the explosion site, a vacuum is created by the rapid outward movement of the blast. This vacuum nourishes of the surrounding atmosphere, refilling itself again and again. It creates a very strong pull on any nearby person or structural surface after that already massive push effect of the blast.

That’s how he handled it: fireworks and gunshots don’t produce that vacuum, so, yeah somehow, he managed to de-trigger his triggers. Having a bigger, scarier trigger, that whirlpool of noise and horror.

And it helped, a lot, he lived a normal life, as much as you can call it that. But then a kid decided to blow up a ladder truck.

And then came the noise of showering shattered glass and screaming.

And if Eddie stops to listen, even without warnings or triggers, he might still hear Buck crying for help, in pain, his weak whimpers clear and loud. That sound entered under his skin, and won’t ever leave. But he can manage this, he can manage this because Buck is always there, watching out for him.

As for today, it was a quiet day. It had begun as a quiet day. The two of them had breakfast with Christopher; and work went by in a fairly smooth shift, some rescues, a couple of accidents that resulted in minor scratches, nothing too demanding or gruesome. Nobody said a thing about it, trying to ignore how smoothly their 18 hours shift was going, because usually shifts like this are the calm before the storm.

And a couple of hours before the shift ended, the siren rang and they were already on the stairs, ready to jump into action.

And while they were in the truck Eddie heard it, that roar, and then that whirlwind of silence, dust and wind howling in the distance.

Eddie raised his head just enough to meet Buck’s eyes and exchange a knowing look.

_If we get out of this alive─_ he remembers thinking.

Of course, there were people in panic on the scene, but the silence, the disturbing silence of a city suddenly immobile was bleaker.

There was a shiny red car across the street, brand new, it must have cost an arm and a leg. The bodywork now covered in dust, the glass shattered from what looked like a piece of flesh.

In front of the building, a building quite anonymous, probably all offices, bureaucratic or insurance things that Eddie had not particularly paid attention to, there was a bus, a double-decker one, for tourists. The top of it was blown off. The seats and the passengers had been thrown out about seven or eight meters. Some bystanders sat on the ground, holding people’s hands. Some passengers were clearly dead, motionless, their bodies in unnatural positions, others were shouting out in pain, in fear.

Some waiters and a chef from a restaurant at the corner of the street, were distributing plastic gloves: to limit the damage to the people who were there and helped, not real first responders, but everyday people. Doorkeepers and security guards delivered blankets and sheets, even towels to stop the bleeding.

Some young policemen, who perhaps had just finished the academy, wanted to be told what to do, Athena was there barking orders, face stern and eyes fierce. But still, and this must have hit Eddie a little too close to home, there was not much panic in that unnatural silence.

The majority of the injuries, from a first rapid analysis, were compound fractures, lacerations, burns and blast injuries. The least lucky had serious brain trauma.

There were stains of blood and oil on the walls of the surrounding buildings, stains of smoke and dust, and flames, which made the grey outlines of skyscrapers look like ugly imitations of some of Pollock's works.

When the explosion hits a surface, there is a very specific thing that happens: after the bomb blows off, there are like stress waves, shockwaves, that continue to travel within the surface. These waves move the energy within the thing they pass through. In a human body, they pass through the tissues and organs. Supersonic, like a Star Wars jet. They carry far more energy than sound waves, and in some cases security measures to ensure that a building doesn’t collapse amplify the already destructive effects. And when you enter a building hit by one of these shockwaves, it's like walking in a building during, or in the immediate aftermath of an earthquake.

Eddie didn’t have time to even think about what the effects of the shockwaves or the fragmentation, could have irreparably damaged the building, he and Buck were entering. Hen and Chim stayed behind with Bobby, ready for the two victims, that two security guards that hadn’t made it out. The rest of the 118 was still a couple of blocks away. They didn’t have time, they needed to move fast. And as much as you can assess the damage from the outside, you can’t know for sure if you don’t go in.

This Eddie remembers, his head spinning as his ears whistle, that loud yet deep whistle that makes his thoughts cloudy and his eyes foggy. The air that seems kicked out from his lungs.

_Could this be death?_

He found himself thinking about it many times, the red sand of Afghanistan in the bed of his fingernails, muddy and sticky with blood, as he struggled to catch a breath, the air drawn away from the heat and the noise, from how the bullets rang in the immediate vicinity and resonated in his chest.

But now it’s so palpable. Scary.

He has to concentrate and gather his thoughts: first thing first, he has to understand if he can move, if he can move from there.

And then a flash, that dangles in the back of his head.

_Buck._

All that time wasted, all that time gone, and Buck was still waiting on him.

Eddie is someone one who runs away and now that instead he has found the courage to stay, to ask. Now that he has found someone else who wants a Diaz package deal, had the courage to take his feelings in his hands, his heart on his lips… now it’s late.

And he had so little time to be happy with Buck, to make him happy.

 _If we get out of this alive_ , he remembers thinking, back on the truck, _I have to ask you to marry me_.

Here, this is what he remembers and also now he remembers that another bomb exploded while they were on the stairs. While Buck was with him on the stairs.

 _Buck_. Where the hell is Buck?

When the second bomb blew off, on the other side of the building, Buck was a few steps away from him, on the staircase between the sixth and the sventh floor.

He can’t even remember Buck’s voice, how it sounded like all caught up in that deep whistling sound that drums in his ears. He was suggesting one of his plans to bring out the victims they were looking for. The plan included a kind of sled for the stairs, the two victims on a desk or a door and the two of them would direct it after having harnessed it. It was the only way to be quick if the ladder truck hadn’t been available.

Buck was behind him, a couple of steps away, and when Eddie heard that sudden rustling, the calm before the storm ─ or maybe he imagined it, maybe it had been more a feeling ─ , he had thrown himself on Buck in an attempt to save him.

Maybe it’s because Eddie is used to that noise, that he perceived before it even happened.

Let’s just stick with calling it a sixth sense. Or maybe he just saw some debris falling from the ceiling, and sensed the imminent collapse.

Realization is like a punch in the face. Buck isn’t there, in what Eddie would call a kind of bonded area.

It’s true, everything is in a very bad shape, battered, the stairs had crumbled with the second explosion, but somehow the entablature held up the impact, and the majority of the floors above are still in their places. The concrete and the debris all around him, but miraculously, apart from being precipitated on the lower floor, Eddie doesn’t seem to have many debris on him, not massive ones at least, nor he has serious wounds.

Now that he is somehow more conscious, awake, he needs to function a bit more. Before even getting up, he looks for the words at the bottom of his throat and tries to reach the radio to ask for help or at least to report his position. But he can’t hear, that damn background noise in his ears is so frigging loud and yet it’s all so quiet around him. He knows that sound, he’s sure he knows that sound, it’s like that scream that hoovers in his worst nightmares.  
He feels his lips moving against the speaker, he hears himself talk, his voice like a distant echo that murmurs in the back of his skull, but no, he can’t hear what they say. _If_ they say anything to him, or if those are just those muffled sounds that their radios make when communications are cut off.

He then decides to get up and decipher the damage he has accused, and more importantly he need to asses if he can move and find a way out. They were between the sixth and the seventh floors. Maybe he can find a way, a small tunnel that can take him out. Or at least let him catch up with Buck.

He manages to roll on his side, and then on his stomach, the oxygen tank pressing against his shoulder blades was clearly the reason he couldn’t breathe well, when he woke up. With his legs aching, his neck and shoulders asking for mercy, he drags himself to the first wall that seems to have held up the blow. It must be reinforced concrete, or, even better a pillar. He sits up and puts a finger of the glove between his teeth and pulls away, freeing his hand to rub his face, and he discovers that no, at least there are no open cuts on his head and that noise he hears, maybe it’s just a whistle due to the very near explosion, more than a first sign of a serious brain damage.

He doesn’t seem to have broken bones, even if his legs don’t seem very reactive, he puts on the oxygen mask to inhale deeply twice, maybe three times, and regain a minimum of self-awareness. Oxygen reinvigorates his thoughts. He decides to switch on his flashlight to at least try to orient.

He moves slowly, his flashlight blinks a couple of times the light becoming more and more faint, a soft orange. But it makes enough light to see it, in the semi-darkness of that damn place, there’s a helmet a couple of feet away, near a pile of debris and cement and glass shattered.

He needs a moment to re-adjust his visual acuity, winking away the dust from his eyes: the white numbers finally flickering back at him.

 _118_.

And it’s like some slow-motion scene in that big budget movies. And Eddie could swear he can actually see his own body moving, even before his very mind catches up. He drags himself there, near the helmet, his dying flashlight left forgotten on the concrete floor. Panic washes over him. Only Buck was there with him. And if his helmet is there, it’s enough to assume that under that horrendous amount of debris, and cement, and god knows what else, there is Buck.

He can think straight. He knows he can, he does that under pressure, has done that in stressful situations years before joining the LAFD, but he can’t. He just can’t. Not now. Not if Buck is under a ton of debris and cement, possibly heaving his last breath any minute now.

When a bomb explodes, the area around the explosion becomes over pressurized, resulting in extremely compressed air particles that move faster than the speed of sound. A wave that annihilates space and time and yet exists only for a handful of milliseconds. The initial damage of the wave is what deals the majority of the damage. Even if it lasts only a blink of an eye, the destruction is numbing.

And that’s exactly what is happening in Eddie’s chest.

He needs to call for help, he needs to do something. He can’t possibly move all those debris without making it worse. He could actually smash the whole fragile equilibrium of the remains of the stairs and pillars, make it all collapse on him and Buck and, _and_ he can’t do that.

He needs to move, he needs to seek any source of light, find a damn way to ask for help.

He can’t lose him.

All that time wasted, all that time gone, and Buck was still willing to love him. He can’t lose him.

He hears his own voice echoing in the back of his head, threading through his skull. He even knows the name of this specific physiological event, but the only thing he can think of, now, is help.

_Help. Help. Help._

That’s what his voice is saying, that familiar noise in his ears so loud and deep that make his vision blurry. But he is sure he’s crying out for help.

But now he really needs to move, to find a goddamn source of light or whatever, everything. A way to get help a way to get Buck, Evan, out of there.

He needs to focus, to function, he really needs to do his best now.

The stairs were on the left of the entrance, so the only reasonable thing to do is reaching the stairs and try to find a way out.

There’s a tunnel, on the right, like twelve feet away from the helmet. Maybe grovelling in there, he can reach Buck, maybe he can help him.

So, he moves, he crouches and tries to crawl under the tunnel made of broken pillars and collapsed cement.

And he really tries not to think. And the only thing that flashes in his mind, aside of Evan, Evan, Evan – like a mantra – is Christopher. And the blood freezes in his veins, now that he thinks about his son, who perhaps will lose at least one of them today.

No. No. Christopher can’t lose them, neither Buck nor Eddie. They will return to Christopher, should he dig the way to the exit himself, with his bare hands.

He sees a golden light crackling in the middle of the collapsed beams and concrete, he must go towards that light.

The debris blocks part of the tunnel, but he can actually stand at some point, the overlying corridor caved in and part of Eddie’s way is blocked, he will have to crawl with his back to the wall, and carry the oxygen tank by hand, otherwise he won’t pass. But he must go, he must continue.

 _To help Buck._ he tells himself. _Evan. Evan. Evan_. he repeats like a mantra.

And maybe he anticipated a fire. Maybe Eddie anticipates elevated temperatures, it is to be expected when there are such explosions, especially if so close one another, but it is clearly a flashlight, the light that glimmers there at the bottom of his way.

Eddie shouts out. The way his ears ring, his head spinning with the echo of his words while he drags himself between the debris, the shoulder that threatens to yield, while tagging along the oxygen tank.

But he comes to the brink of the tunnel, at the edge of another free zone: there are debris everywhere, but there is a person who seems is looking for someone, who moves the flashlight in search of something in the piles of debris.

There is someone as battered as he is dragging himself around.

Eddie can’t assess his features, his face, his expression. It’s like a silhouette that person, and maybe it’s just a ghost of Eddie’s imagination.

But as soon as the light hits Eddie’s face and forces him to close his eyes for a moment, that person runs towards him, limping in a way that seems decidedly painful, but is on him in a matter of seconds.

And it is unmistakable that strong embrace, bone-crushing hug, yet so warm and delicate at the same time, tender, that it anchors him to reality, to life. The familiar scent, sweat, dust and that stupidly good oatmeal shampoo (“ _My hair are this fabulous due to oat, Eds!”_ ), fills Eddie’s nostrils. And it feels like coming home.

 _He is alive. Buck. Evan. Evan is alive. He is alive. He is alive._ He needs to repeat himself again and again, gasping, swallowing back a sob.

Now that they are together, now that they are together, everything will be fine.

“Evan!” Eddie croaks, or at least he is convinced to call his name, or maybe it’s his mantra. The whistle is gone all together. He nuzzles in the crook of Buck’s neck, tugging at his turnout coat like his own life depends on it.

Buck tightens his grip on Eddie, straightening them both. “I found you” he says.

And Eddie could swear that he hears Buck’s words in his chest, his voice that echoes stentorian and hoarse all together, even before it reaches his ears.

“ _Bullshits_ ,” Eddie replies. “ _I_ found you”. His head spinning and his legs no longer holding him. And he’d like to say other words to him. He’d like to ask him now, of all moments, right here, this seems the perfect moment, now that they are both alive, he must ask him.

Now that they are together, everything will be fine.

But darkness starts to slip at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision and he may have the feeling of his body giving in, collapsing in Buck’s arms.

Or maybe he is simply out of it even before realizing it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has the salty taste of tears in his mouth, a sense of helplessness that pervades every single cell of his body.  
> His breath is shorter and shorted down his throat, scratching the palate, the heart beats faster, faster, faster and faster. And his brain that tells him to act, to move, to do something because he has to save him, he has to go to Buck, he has to save him or he will die. Evan will die.

At first, Eddie is not even near to the ownership of himself. It feels like floating in a calm sea of nothingness in that first somehow blissful moment. Until someone decides to rub his sternum with knuckles, and force him to open his eyes.

Perhaps, if he were vaguely more lucid, he would be aware of the echo of people murmuring around him. But the only thing he can’t hear, while someone shoots some light in his eyes, the only thing he doesn’t hear in that big tumultuous noise is Buck’s voice. _Evan_. He was with him, wasn’t he?

He doesn’t even have the strength to panic, as exhausted as he is. His head that darkens every passing second and the eyes become foggy.

He tries to follow the light, not in the figurative sense of it as in going to the afterlife, but he is actually trying to follow the movements of the torch that someone between Hen and Chim is shooting in his eyes, but also too much light makes him sleepy and before he can protest, before he can say something, anything, sleep has the upper hand.

There is another moment. Again someone wakes him up, or maybe this time he wakes up on his own, and as soon as he wakes up, he doesn’t even have time to open his eyes that someone flashes a light again, which he tries to follow, because that’s the practice, even if Eddie protests, or at least is convinced to protest. He is very grouchy, but there is someone who keeps him down, who says something to him with a calm and shooting voice, a voice that usually in these cases, from which he remembers, is not so quiet.

That’s the voice he was looking for before, Buck. _Evan_ is there. 

And somehow, in the blink of an eye, he falls asleep again.

It happens again, and again.

Eddie would like to keep track of how many times it happens, of how many times someone wakes him up and shoots the light in his eyes. But he just can’t count. He simply can’t remember. He knows that they are all separate times, because every time he is more annoyed than before, but he can’t say how many times it has happened so far.

The fact is, there is always someone there, who speaks softly, in such a low and quiet voice that is like a lullaby and lulls him back to sleep.

Then there are sounds, noises, that echo in the room. And Eddie is certain that a strange dull grunt came out of his throat. An impossible thirst that tightens his trachea and dries up his palate.

The stifled and somewhat relieved laughter that follows his lament is coming from Buck. He says something to him, and Eddie is sure he’s talking to him because he uses that tone, the one he uses when Eddie wakes up at night and can’t get back to sleep, which somehow helps him fall asleep again. It’s his calm, gentle tone, the same he uses when Christopher has a nightmare, or gets sad about something.

And Eddie is so happy to be there, to hear that tone and gradually as he starts fighting again, and losing, against sleep, he hears Buck talk to someone else and Eddie finds himself thinking, for a second before sleep takes him away again, how lucky he is. 

It happens again. Someone shoots the light in his eyes without too much kindness. That someone, a unrecognizable voice, mumbles something, and maybe, maybe Eddie replies, maybe even a little frustrated. The voice is a dull, annoyed groan. 

Or maybe Eddie is just imagining it, maybe it’s one of those conscious dreams. He moves to take the hand, that hand that anchored him to reality, but his fingers caress a vacant space on the thin cotton blanket that feels raw under his fingers. Or maybe even that movement is non-existent, maybe he just imagined moving, another conscious dream, maybe he’s still sleeping.

When he emerges from his sleep, if he was asleep, this time, the light that greets him is that not at all welcoming and decidedly freezing of an hospital room. It blinks at him impudently and Eddie can’t help grunting a half-curse in Spanish.

This time, there isn’t that reassuring voice that whispers softly and lulls him back to sleep gently. There is only the mechanical murmur of the heart monitor. He expected to feel at least Evan’s scent, his shiny eyes looking over him, his hair maybe tousled because when he is in panic mode, he has a tendency to run his fingers through his hair continuously, as if looking for a bit of comfort.

But when Eddie manages to open his eyes not without a great effort, finally, and looks around, Evan isn’t there.

And panic washes over him. It slips under his skin and snatches his breath away.

Was it a dream? Didn’t he find Buck? Wasn’t Evan there with him? Where is he?

The roar of the wind, of that vacuuming destructive wind, echoes in his ears.

And Eddie is there again, in the darkness of that collapsed building, and is looking for Evan. The cement dust that makes his nose itch and tastes like something that hasn’t been so bitter in his mouth for years, the red sand of Afghanistan.

It’s all an absurd string of information.

His brain has short-circuited.

He’s in the building, but he’s also on the street, yet he’s also in Afghanistan. He is everywhere and yet he is also there, in the hospital. And he needs to ground himself, he needs to try and not to panic.

It rarely happens, but when it does, it’s like drowning.

When you have post-traumatic stress disorder, the symptoms come and go, disappear for a period and then suddenly reappear.

At first Eddie didn’t even know what his trigger was, suddenly he became really worried, frightened, hyper-alert, he closed himself in that little corner of his mind, and physically in another room or further away, further away until it passed. The episode.

Then he had learned to move his attention to focus on something that in everyday life is difficult to experience: that noise, that lapping and deadly wind.

Strong memories, that terrible and uncomfortable feeling of being there to relive everything, without being able to do anything to change things. Sounds, images, smells, thoughts... everything comes rushing over him, like acid rain and hurricane.

It hasn't happened for a long time, he hasn’t had that horrible sensation on his skin for a long time. That burns his face like the sun on that red sand, the helmet that crushes his hair and the familiar weight of all those lethal weapons in his hands.

The light of that hospital room blinds him, and the smell of disinfectants and antiseptics is swept away by the one of dust and wind, debris and cement, the blood that dries on the soil, that dries on the red sand has its own terrifying smell. His heart is beating fast and even the screeching of the heart monitor, if only he could hear it, could testify it. His senses are in full alert and his brain just stops its normal functions and begins to deal with the danger.

It doesn’t matter where it is, it only matters that the body is ready to fight.

With PTSD, the brain doesn’t process the trauma in the right way, if we can say so. “To explain it in the simplest way in the world,” said Frank in one of their therapy sessions “the brain doesn’t archive the stressful event, the trauma, like the past event that it is. The result? You don’t feel safe even when you are, safe”.

And maybe it's also because he has always had control over everything, his emotions, the things that happen around him. Or maybe it's because in recent times he has always had Buck beside him.

But now Buck is gone and Eddie is back in Afghanistan, back in that damn building, back on the street, the ladder truck upside down and Buck screaming.

And it hits him like a bat on his head: that’s the sound that pours in his head, that dramatically familiar to what he heard in that fucking building. It’s Buck. Evan screaming and asking for help.

And Dios! _Dios_ , how much he doesn’t want to hear that noise, that terrible noise anymore.

In front of him there is no scorching sunlight of the Afghan desert, but the flashing of police lights and the noise is that of the helicopter flying above them. The kid, Eddie honestly forgot his name as soon as he heard it, is there and threatens to blow everything up.

And he must find a way to anchor himself to the present, to reality. He needs to, he knows Evan is alive, or at least was alive after the bombing, the embolism, the tsunami… _Dios_.

He has the salty taste of tears in his mouth, a sense of helplessness that pervades every single cell of his body.

His breath is shorter and shorted down his throat, scratching the palate, the heart beats faster, faster, faster and _faster_. And his brain that tells him to act, to move, to do something because he has to save him, he has to go to Buck, he has to save him or he will die. _Evan will die_.

But his body doesn’t respond.

And as he tries to detach cables and tubes, someone enters his field of vision, a nurse and then Eddie sees him, the familiar way of walking, limping at most, the puff of blonde hair and the eyes that look like two wells of turquoise water.

The nurse looks for something to give him, a doctor who barks orders somewhere Eddie doesn’t really want to focus, his eyes are on Buck. And maybe he sees it, the plaster on his forehead or the splint around his left wrist. But he’s there, and there’s nothing more important than that.

“No sedatives, please...” he hears Evan say calmly as he approaches him. “I’ll calm him down, I know how to do it”.

And Eddie is already calmer, now that he sees him standing, blood and pain only a distant memory, only the fruit of his mind.

Buck picks up his face and directs it just enough to look him in the eyes, a delicate smile that curves his lips. But his eyes are worried, almost scared. “Hey Eds, I’m here, I got you. I got you.” he says softly, “You have to breathe slowly. Follow my lead, alright?” he adds before taking a deep and slow breath, puffing out the air in a very noisy way.

Eddie complies, like a good soldier. Or at least he tries. He closes his eyes and concentrates. Usually when he isn’t so stressed, he just needs to repeat that this, _this_ is real, breath in, and out. When he had this kind of episodes more frequently, he just needed to ground himself, and all those horrible feelings would start to vanish.

Buck’s hands holding his face gently, his voice, the warm breath that collides on his face, is calming.

Contrary to what it may seem, between the two of them, Eddie is the more tactile, who almost always needs physical contact, continuous and close. It is a kind of grounding technique. Feeling that contact helps him keep your feet on the ground, to be careful, to feel and not to feel together. When they are working, he only needs to feel his thigh pressed against Buck’s, that familiar squeeze on his shoulder or his hand on the small of his back. Maybe when nobody looks at them, Buck’s lips rub at the corner of his forehead, nothing PG-13 or to report to HRs, just enough to feel close to him.

So, Buck does the thing he usually does when Eddie needs it, the thing that he does best! He sits down next to him and pulls him against his chest, in spite of all the cables and pipes to which Eddie is connected. Buck moves him slowly, handling him with a care, a patience, that is usually reserved to tiny fragile things. Eddie isn’t anything like that, yet, Buck knows how to touch him like this, when he needs to.

It’s like Buck knew of his need for constant confirmation, even before Frank pointed it out to Eddie, because Eddie is someone who runs away and burns every bridge around him, and Buck has always seen himself abandoned.

Maybe that’s why the two of them work so well, and not just because of that wonderful and mind-blowing sex, or because Buck clicks just right with Christopher. But for this, because the two of them compensate each other.

Buck tightens his grip on him, as he has done in that fucking building, as he has done so many times, if he squeezes him and draws with his fingertips on his back small reassuring circles. “It’s all right, Eddie. I got you. We are alive, we are safe. We are in the hospital and... you know what happens next. You know what you need to do. Can you tell me?”.

Eddie tries to open his mouth, but his breath is always short and heavy, even now, even now that he tries to breathe slowly, to mimic Buck’s breathing.

Buck barely moves, says something to someone, or maybe tells him something, but Eddie can’t really catch up his words. The screams are disappearing, and only this enormous sense of helplessness remains that makes his legs tremble, his breath that is only dull noise, he also hears the beating of his heart that echoes in his ears, in his head.

Someone turns off the light and the flashing lights cease to flicker in his head, and there is that hand behind his neck, which then pushes him into an even warmer embrace. Eddie is a tactile type, and Buck knows it, and kisses his temple twice and squeezes him against his chest, nuzzling with his cheek on the top of his head. He says something again and again, the calm tone of his voice, the slow breathing, the beating of his heart that echoes in every little corner of Eddie’s body.

It takes forever to end that. Or maybe it’s just been a minute but it seems like an eternity. Eddie’s eyes are fogging with hyperventilation and, at the same time he would like to hide somewhere and stay there, because Evan is there, on him, with him.

Buck kisses his temple again, slowly and after a moment of silence, finally speaks to him again, his lips against his skin, just below the hairline. “Hey, hey Eddie, let's try again okay?” he murmurs, his voice soft and husky. “Breathe with me. Everything is fine, everything is fine, we are saved, we are in the hospital, a bit battered but in one piece...”.

Eddie tightens his eyelids again and focuses on Buck’s voice, on the surrounding silence marked only by the heart monitor that chirps gradually more and more slowly. Eddie finally manages to heave a deep breath.

“Can you tell me what to do now?” Buck mumbles again.

“Say... three things... in here...” Eddie mutters, his voice hoarse and raw.

“Hey, yes.” Buck says “Three things, very good, you are so good Eddie…” he adds, rubbing his cheek against Eddie’s forehead. He is rocking slowly, as if to rock it. “Tell me three things. I don't count”.

Eddie groans as he tries to focus on what he can see in the dimly illuminated room. The light that filters through the parchment texture of the curtains on the windows and the open door is enough to enlighten the room. It must be afternoon.

“The bed,” he says and swallows a lump in his throat, an impossible thirst that scratches his throat. He rubs his hand on the bed and goes to wrinkle Buck’s shirt between his fingers and borrows in his chest, nuzzling against him.

“This one was easy, I need more details, Eds, you know,” he whispers.

“It is uncomfortable. It’s small. The both of us can’t fit in it…” he babbles. “The sheets are thin and raw, and you can feel the reinforced plastic of the mattress... the ugly one... that smells of… antiseptic I─ _I_...”.

“You don't like hospitals, I know. Neither do I,” Buck huffs, a soft hint off grin in his voice. “What else is there?”.

Eddie’s eyes move enough to focus on a chair. “A chair. Near the bed… Steel and plastic… It looks uncomfortable. Is it uncomfortable?”.

“It is. A lot.” Buck whispers quietly. “The last one?”.

Eddie hums “You don’t count?” the voice coming out faintly from the bottom of his throat. He is exhausted, but he is calmer now.

“I’m no object Eds, and you know I’ll always be here” Buck murmurs. “So?”.

Eddie heaves a long sigh. “Curtains.” he nods. “They are long. And... seem a little... cheap?”.

“Good boy. Very good.” he mumbles slowly, kissing his temple again. “Can I leave you a little, so you lie down?”.

Eddie tightens his grip on him and shakes his head slowly. The movement makes him feel dizzy and he needs to shut his eyes for a moment, his head spinning a bit.

“Okay, okay,” Buck whispers, settling better against him.

It never happened that Buck was there after. When this kind of shit happens, as soon as his breathing calms down a little, Eddie pulls back. A sense of disgust that takes over his stomach. Maybe he mumbles something, maybe he says that he needs a minute, but the fact is that he throws himself in the corridor and hurries into the bedroom. He locks the door behind him and sits down against the wooden slab and starts breathing heavily. Arms crossed on his knees, tight to the chest, forehead resting against his wrists. Usually he feels it, he knows that doesn’t end there. He feels it in his bones that _the episode_ isn’t over. Buck has never seen him in a state like this, he was there when something like this happened, a couple of times, but… never like this, never like this. And Buck is so good, so damn good, so patient with him. How is it even possible?

He hears him whisper softly, an ancient melody that maybe Eddie knows, but now he just can’t name it. His lips against his ear as he swings slowly, cradling him. His big, strong hand moving in the centre of his back, his touch soft, like a feather. The other is still on his neck, his fingers intertwined with the short scruffy hair at the nape.

And now he feels anchored to the present. No more noise, no more fear. Finally, he begins to relax.

And maybe Buck feels it because he loosens his grip on him and rearranges Eddie with an unbelievable care with his back on the pillow. He doesn’t even realize the small twinge of pain that radiates from his ribs. Twinge that may have been there earlier too, when Buck pulled him in that warm embrace.

And for a second, for a mere second Eddie worries, that he could leave again. _Never again._ A tiny part of him says.

But Buck doesn’t go away, obviously he doesn’t go away. He remains there, sitting on the bed next to him and holds one hand on his chest, the other is intertwined with his. “You’re exhausted,” he says, rubbing her thumb against his sternum. “Sorry, I didn’t... I didn't think you’d wake up while I was away… more likely I hoped you’d wait for me… I was out talking to Christopher and your abuelita... and then to the doctor, who had just visited you... I couldn’t think he woke you up, you woke up, sorry...” he murmurs. 

And Eddie wants to tell him something, a lot of thing to be honest, but… But his words begin to get lost in the confusion that clouds his mind.

Evan always apologizes. And one day he will also get tired of apologizing. Especially when, no, he doesn’t have to apologize. Especially not now, that it’s Eddie who has to apologize, that is Eddie’s fault. That it is Eddie who must be remembered that he is there, alive and pretty much kicking, and that he is a kind of gift from heaven.

A lot of time has passed since that incident. And they have been together for months now. They have already signed up to the HR papers, and Buck has been living with him for a couple of months. He’s renting out his apartment, so they have an extra income, and he does all those little domestic things for them. This, _this_ Eddie must remember. And he has to ignore that little voice in his head, which says slowly, but with a certain redundant industriousness, that sooner or later Evan will get tired of Eddie, if the episodes return with the same frequency as before, Evan will leave him. He will go away too.

And maybe he already believes in that little voice, and ignores all the things that Buck, that _Evan_ does for him every day. For him and for Christopher, but let’s be honest: who can say no to Christopher?

Maybe he’ll leave tonight, this very night, as soon as Eddie lets go of his hand. And Christopher will lose another parental figure. And he will lose the love of his life.

But Buck is young, _Evan_ , Evan is so young and handsome, and cheerful, radiant, like the sun and the stars and… _and_ there are really no words to describe him that are not a limit to what he is, what he really is. And even with all the horrible things that have happened to him in the past few years, he never gave up. He never had these episodes, Evan. It is clear that Eddie is flawed, he has some manufacturing defects. It is clear that he doesn’t have to be happy, but he is destined to wallow in the black slime he has already dived into when he was with Shannon. And it made her unhappy too. It is not fair that Evan is unhappy, as Shannon was, as Eddie was. It isn’t fair that the light has to disappear from his eyes.

In his head thoughts crowd, it always happens that they come, these thoughts that intrude into his daily life, when he has these episodes. These thoughts that convinced him to delay his return, to sign in for another tour, when Christopher was born, that made him run away. That _make_ him run away.

He doesn't know how long he is there, in that dark corner of his head, he hears Buck talking to him softly. Evan always talks a lot when he’s panicking, he does it to keep heavy thoughts away, to talk and make them fly. And he also talks so much to give him time, to anchor him to reality.

Eddie doesn’t listen, or rather he listens, he always listens to him when he speaks, but he can’t process the information. He continues to think that maybe, maybe it’s too much, for Buck having to stand there and put up with Eddie and all that baggage of problems, all that shit that Eddie carries with him. Evan will leave, as soon as he leaves his hand, Evan will leave.

“Sorry...” he mumbles, his eyes closing with exhaustion.

Buck leans his head to the side, like those big dogs who look at the smaller ones with a confused look on their silly big faces. “What for?” he blurts out and then widens his eyes with realization. “For an episode, Eddie? You never, you must never apologize”.

“But...” he begins to say and the words are all there, so fucking many, and he would like to tell him a lot more, but they end up at the bottom of his throat and don’t seem to want to go out, they crowd one another but nothing comes out but an awkward grunt of exasperation.

Buck tightens his grip on his hand, his fingers intertwined with Eddie’s even more, as if to reduce the already small space between their palms. “When you want to talk, I will be here. I am always here. I’m not leaving, I’ve been waiting for you all this time, I’m not going to leave because you had a... what? Panic attack? We were in an extremely dangerous situation and… and you just reacted to protect yourself… it’s normal, Eddie. I’d say physiological…” he adds, moving their hands so he can actually kiss every single one of Eddie’s knuckles. His lips soft and warm and, and Eddie can’t really find the right words. 

“I just… you know, you never seen me like this” he finally croaks.

“And you never got to see me like this neither, but…” Buck snorts nonchalantly. “Eddie, I’m not going to leave because you aren’t perfect or you aren’t made of steel. I don’t want a man of steel, a fucking Clark Kent, or Captain America, I don’t want a robot… I want you.” He says, like it’s so easy to say things like that.

And Eddie’s heart swells in his chest, and maybe the heart monitor can catch that too. He opens his mouth but Buck continues, moving a bit closer in the process, to leave a peck on the top of Eddie’s head.

“You, with your stupidly good hair, and your stupidly heartwarming smile, and this thick head of yours… you are so lucky you have such a hard head, you…” he adds, moving to shackle little kisses all over his face. “You with that silly way to dance in the kitchen when you think I don’t see you, I’m always watching you, so yeah, I know. And your kid loves it, so you should really let us enjoy it a bit more…” he adds his lips ghosting on his skin. “And… and your terrible cooking skills and… and your adorable little snores… I want all of it. I want you.” He murmurs, voice husky and raw and a bit broken. “I want you with all those little cracks on your heart that, if you’ll let me, I’ll gladly patch up… all your little scars that I want to mend. I’m never going to leave you”.

The breath stings at the back of Eddie’s throat. “ _Fuck_ ”.

“Oh, yeah, that too.” He says. That shit-eating grin of his, that even in that dim light, is glimmering. “Your dick, you know… your ass… your mouth… we are very good in bed and we are very compatible… I can go on forever, if you ask me. But it didn’t sound so romantic, you know?” he says, amused.

Eddie swallows, and scoffs and that little voice in his head is finally gone. “ _You…_ ”.

And maybe Eddie wants Evan to interrupt him, maybe he wants some cocky comment and wants him to make him laugh, even if it seems painful. But he stays silent, his lips moving slowly from is temple to his cheekbone, the light stubble on Buck’s chin that frictions against his skin.

“You are amazing, you know that?” he says, and it’s kind of an understatement. All his words resound of emptiness, Buck, _Evan_ is way more, something more and, and Eddie should really find a way with his words.

“You are pretty amazing too” Evan murmurs. “And you know, all efforts and commitments… I’m going to be always yours”.

“ _Always_?” he asks, and would like to kick himself because his voice trembles when it comes out of his throat. It sounds like a plea, a prayer, a boundless prayer.

“Always.” Evan repeats, voice sure and clear, rubbing his lips on Eddie’s in a quick kiss. “Now let the doctor out here visit you and then get some sleep, huh?” he then says. “I stay here, I stay here all the time, physiology permitting, and maybe tomorrow we’ll get you home”.

Eddie snorts half a bitter laugh. 

In his head echoes that thought the one he had on the truck. _I’m going to ask you to marry me._

If only he found the right words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: if you got this far, you are now my favourite person and I hope you enjoyed the ride so far (?) and thank you for reading!  
> Second: yeah you read it right! it now counts 3 chapters more - it became a bit nasty, a bit longer, than what I first expected - so here we go, with 3 more chapter about healing and all soft things.
> 
> if you found mistakes and misspellings that made your skin crawl (or even if they didn't make your skin crawl) please let me know.  
> Feel free to leave a feedback
> 
> Thank you again for reading! Stay tuned for more


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie doesn’t have time to think and opens his mouth and gives it breath. “Suck it up, Evan... You’re the usual overdramatic” he mutters. “I just had an episode and... I hit my head, alright…” he begins to say “It was already afternoon when we arrived at that building... the sun has just set... and, between the test and the MRI, I have been awake for at least three hours now... it is not possible that...”.
> 
> Evan looks at him, motionless. He blinks twice and it almost seems that his eyelids are full of liquid glue because when he opens them again, his eyelashes seem greasy and sticky. He runs his hand over his face, rubs his eyes and sighs, before running his hand through his hair twice, again. He bites his lip then. “I’m sorry… I’m… Yes, maybe I’m dramatic,” he says monotonously. And he only heard that tone a few times. And Eddie doesn’t want to remember when he heard it, because it brings bad thoughts to his mind. “I’ll suck it up...” he groans, but then stretches out a fake shit-eating smiles of his, that doesn't reach his eyes, that seem like a storm, grey and all off “I'm quite good at sucking, right?”.

To say that Eddie is exhausted is an understatement, when the doctor, a less than 6 feet tall man with a head as round and shiny as a billiard ball, enters the room. 

At first, he had a bit of trouble following the flow of doc’s speech, the confusion that echoes in his head. But when Buck takes his hand and squeezes it gently, it helps him to focus. He is there, Evan, this is the meaning of that gentle grip,  _he is there_ , and he will not go anywhere else.

They have always been pretty good at non-verbal communication, the two of them, even before ending up together. And when the doctor, this Ramirez? Maybe. Tells him that they will have to perform a series of tests, perhaps a vaguely worried sigh escapes Eddie’s lips, while he tightens his grip on Evan’s hand.

He doesn’t even know how, maybe because Evan is his usual incredible charming self, but, somehow, he doesn’t leave him alone even for a moment. He followed him even when he had to get an MRI, something Eddie could happily live without, really. Buck must have given free rein to all his impossible charm to convince the doctors to let him use the microphone to speak to Eddie, his gentle husky voice loud enough to overpower the atrocious noise that that machine makes. Or maybe it was enough to see how good he had been to calm him down before, because when Eddie had to let go of Buck’s hand it seemed they were abandoning him in the middle of nowhere. His breath itching at the back of his throat.

However, the fact is that Eddie feels better, gradually, more lucid, and gradually responds better and better. He also remembers to thank and be polite, even with that weird nurse who absolutely wanted to accompany him to the bathroom. Buck intervened at that moment and took him to the bathroom and waited for him outside, his voice reassuring behind the closed door. He kept talking and talking and talking, until they went back to the little room that smells like antiseptic and disinfectant and made Eddie sit at a table for another long battery of assessments.

Evan was there with him even when he wasn’t supposed to, during that long clinical test to evaluate his cognitive skills. Usually in these cases the patient must sit continuously for the whole time of the test, and the environment must be free from distractions, but Buck was there, sitting with his thigh rubbing against his, a comforting hand on the small of his back.

And it took forever to weigh even his balance, first on one leg and then on another, with his eyes closed and open, taping his nose, and things like that, the usual. Then the reflexes with that damn point gavel. And his ribs hurt so much, even before sitting down again and continuing with other cognitive tests, this time in front of a laptop.

Eddie is exhausted at the end of the visit. Buck has been with him all the time, without saying a word. As soon as Dr. Ramirez leaves them alone for a moment to conclude the evaluations, manual in hand, Eddie sags in Buck’s arms.

Evan sighs softly, his lips against his hair. “You were good, you were so good.” he tells him, holding him closer, and it almost seems that Evan also needs that contact, that isn’t only Eddie the one looking for that warmth. “You deserved all the drawings that Chris has done for you... and also the little surprise that is coming...” he says slowly, such fondness, such affection in his voice.

Eddie grunts a loud pained groan as he finally slips into bed and stretches his legs and leans his back against the thin, uncomfortable and all frayed mattress. “I just want to go home”.

Buck’s phone chirps with a message and he doesn’t even look at the screen, he just smiles at him with his bright and impossible smile. “Try to be a collaborative patient, Eds.” he says calmly. “I’m sure you will feel better as soon as they arrive...”.

Evan moves to walk away for a moment and Eddie reaches out and pulls him towards the bed.  “Stay here, stay here please,” he says, finally out loud.

Buck sits on the edge of the bed, all the weight on his healthy leg, and leans over him and blows a kiss on the edge of his forehead. “You have to drink at least a little bit. You have to hydrate yourself... you will get a lot of wrinkles if you don’t hydrate enough...”.

Eddie snorts and with an unimaginable effort moves on his side, the one that hurts the least. And he curls up around Buck, his knees rubbing close to Buck’s side and an arm around his waist, and he pulls him against him, enough to put his weight on that uncomfortable mattress. “I want to go home,” he snorts. “I just want to go home, to Christopher, with you... and forget about this shitty day and...”.

Buck places a hand behind his neck and looks at him, with a soft half-smile. He seems to be thinking about what to say while gently caresses the hairline at the base of Eddie’s neck with his thumb. “I’m sure they will discharge you tomorrow, and you must be fit for our little hurricane... he spent the day with your abuelita, he sure is hyperactive from sugars by now...”.

“No. I want to go home now.” he reiterates.

“Oh, Eddie, I didn’t make you such an uncooperative patient, you know the drill better than me. And, now that I think about it… when the nurse woke you up a few hours ago, you insulted her with a grunt in Spanish. Let’s hope she didn’t take it...” he says, and seems to ignore him.

But Eddie doesn’t give up, “I want to go home, Ev. I just want to go to bed with you and forget for once the rule we have with Christopher and sleep together... all the three of us… and...”.

“It’s not a good idea, Eds” Buck declares after a long moment of silence, while carding his fingers slowly in Eddie’s hair. 

There is a point, more or less at the height of the occipital bone that hurts a lot, and it is as if Buck knows it, because his touch becomes even lighter. 

Eddie wants to protest, but Buck continues.

“Even if we go home, I’ll still have to wake you up every three hours, and tomorrow is a school day and Christopher has to rest well, otherwise you know he becomes grumpy just like you.” he says, a soft amusement in his voice.

“Oh, come on!” Eddie groans. He remembers it: tomorrow is Saturday, and they have a nice free day already planned, camping in the backyard in the evening, watching the stars until Christopher falls asleep and they will put him back in his bed.

Buck huffs. “Trust me, it’s a very bad idea,”.

Eddie snorts loudly. And his ribcage hurts, in that position, with that respiratory movement, or just in general, but he has an almost physiological need for that contact, and that’s why he wants to get out of there, and go home. Hop in their bed and being the little spoon. “This confirms me that it’s indeed a great idea,” he mutters.

Buck growls annoyed and stops stroking his head. “You’re joking, right? These are not our agreements, Edmundo, I am not the responsible adult. And you know that. You are with me for my looks and not my brain…” he adds, a sour but friendly tone.

_Edmundo._ He says it in the same peremptory tone that Ramon Diaz used when he was a young highschool kid. Buck is usually much kinder, almost amused, when he uses that name, his full name. But perhaps Eddie shouldn’t read us much in that severe tone of his. In the end, it is inserted into a kind of inside joke all their own.

“I just want to go home. With you and Christopher.” Eddie repeats listlessly, tightening his grip on him more. He just wants to go back to his house, get into bed and pull Buck on him and forget, forget that bad joke that made his head and that bad day they spent. Feeling alive and whole. He wants to hug his son, so strong that he would protest with his giggles, and he simply wants to forget.

Buck snorts. “You’re the judicious one, I don’t─” he begins to say, a certain piqued tone in his voice. But then he sighs. “You should think about it, it’s a bad idea. You should stay here at least until tomorrow morning, they’ll keep you under observation for a while and... then we’ll go, okay?”.

“I just hit my head... it’s not that bad, I mean, I’m _already_ awake! Besides, you’ve had worse, I had worse… you know.” he replies, looking up at Buck, who looks outside, now that the curtains are open to give more visibility during his tests, and the damp smell of the evening air enters from the half-open window. 

He stays silent for a couple of moments. Eddie hears him breathing between his gritted teeth, is jaw clenched. 

So, Eddie hurries to speak again, it was an unfortunate choice of words and usually Buck jokes about it, his usual bad luck or something on that lines… “Don’t worry, I just... _I just_ want to─” he then shuts up and looks at the window. The sky still has some splashes of red and orange, while the night stretches on the horizon. And maybe, if they weren’t there, they would be enjoying that beautiful sunset. And that would be the perfect time to ask him, to kneel and say those words that weigh on his heart.

And maybe something clicks in his mind. The sun was already setting, when they got to that damn building. That’s why they had to find only two security guards and not all the staff in there. 

He reaches out to pick up his hand. Evan’s fingers curl around his and return the hold. He turns his gaze on him and Eddie sees them, his eyes, rimmed red, tiredness overflowing them and something else. 

A bitter laugh escapes Evan, a strange hilarity that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I risked breaking my neck, in fact... since you clearly threw me down the stairs. I could have broken my head like a watermelon, Eddie, what the hell! Not all of us are as lucky as you, that you fall for two damned floors and in the end you are somehow in one piece” he mutters, and then purses his lips in a sneer smile of his. “One can’t beat death to hide and seek all these times, huh... you know I’m not such a lucky guy... my sister pokes my ass at poker every single time we play…”.

Eddie stirs a bot around him and then laughs at the thought of Buck’s confused look, every time Maddie beats him: he still hasn’t figured out what the weak point of his poker face is. And laughing hurts so much, but he has to grit his teeth, because, hell, he wants to go home. He just wants to go home.

“Ah, you can’t laugh! You are all battered!” Buck mutters bending over him, a tone a little too amused for his tastes, and Eddie heaves out a groan. “See? You have to stay here a little longer”.

“Don’t you want to go home?” he asks straightening up and, yes, in fact that shiver of pain that runs through his ribs seems nothing good. But he already misses that contact, he already misses feeling Buck all over him, and they aren’t even that far from each other right now. “You are almost as exhausted as me and... _and_ I actually knocked you down the stairs. In my defence? I wanted to avoid you ending up under a pile of debris...” and saying it out loud, makes his stomach tighten at the mere idea, at the memory of the terror that invaded every fibre of his body back in that damn building. He bites the inside of his cheek, and squeezes his lips.

Buck snorts and nervously runs a hand through his hair and when he is about to get up Eddie anchors him, holding his shirt in his hand. “Eddie,” he murmurs softly. “Until a few hours ago it was difficult for you to keep your eyes open for about ten minutes, the nurse would come here to wake you up every three hours because...” he stops and shakes his head, clearing his throat. “You are still lethargic now. You slurred a lot more before, yeah… and before the testing even started, you seemed dazed, and you response was delayed… and probably if I’d let you up and you took a couple of steps more, all alone too far, your head would spin and... and...” he continues to say, a river of words, his voice wobbling. “And then the episode… Eddie you really should─”.

Eddie doesn’t have time to think and opens his mouth and gives it breath. “ _Suck it up_ , Evan... You’re the usual overdramatic” he mutters. “I just had an episode and... I hit my head, alright…” he begins to say “It was already afternoon when we arrived at that building... the sun has just set... and, between the test and the MRI, I have been awake for at least three hours now... it is not possible that...”.

Evan looks at him, motionless. He blinks twice and it almost seems that his eyelids are full of liquid glue because when he opens them again, his eyelashes seem greasy and sticky. He runs his hand over his face, rubs his eyes and sighs, before running his hand through his hair twice, again. He bites his lip then. “I’m sorry… I’m… Yes, maybe I’m dramatic,” he says monotonously. And he only heard that tone a few times. And Eddie doesn’t want to remember when he heard it, because it brings bad thoughts to his mind. “ _I’ll suck it up_ ...” he groans, but then stretches out a fake shit-eating smiles of his, that doesn't reach his eyes, that seem like a storm, grey and all off “I'm quite good at sucking, right?”.

_Ah shit!_ Eddie doesn’t even have time to open his mouth. Evan’s expression takes his breath away: he stares at him for a moment, before speaking. His eyes are empty, red and watery with puffy and bright dark circles underneath. But then he breathes a long sigh. And when Eddie is about to speak, this time he hears the unmistakable ticking of Christopher’s crutches closer and closer, until he sees his dazzling smile.

“Daddy!” chirps his beautiful resilient son hurrying to enter. “Bucky!”

Tìa Pepa and abuela follow suit, and perhaps say something along the lines of “You shouldn’t run in the hospital corridors”.

Buck leaves Eddie only now, for this very good reason, to scoop Christopher up and helping him on the bed. “I told you Daddy was fine, Superman”.

“It’s true!” Chris quips, throwing himself into Eddie’s arms in a strange, not very impetuous, almost tentative way. “You took good care of my daddy, kid!”.

“I’m fine, buddy. I also did a lot of tests, they’ll let me out shortly, I bet,” he adds.

“Eddie,” Evan calls him softly, Ramon Diaz’s peremptory tone a distant memory in his voice as he rolls his eyes.

“Are you always the usual plaintive patient, Eddito?” babbles abuela, before hugging Buck and then reaching out and taking his face in her hands. “Come here Evanito, let me take a good look at your beautiful face. Is it possible that four days in the hospital and you look as fresh as a rose?”.

“Oh it’s because I moisturize,” Evan replies chuckling.

Eddie frowns. Four days? Like  _four_ days? He must have misheard.

Christopher squeezes Eddie closer. “Do I hurt you, Daddy?”.

“You? No, absolutely not,” he replies, stroking the curls on the back of his boy’s neck and also squeezing his arm on his small back.

“You have to tell me which product you use, Evan. Because Eddie here will make us all age ahead of time!” Pepa grumbles, blowing a noisy kiss on Buck’s cheek, before turning his attention to Eddie. “And how are you?”.

“I’m tired and I want to go home,” he mumbles.

“Eddie...” Evan speaks again, a bit louder this time. 

“What? Iwant to go home, I just hit my head there is nothing dramatic, or serious, okay? Don’t overreact, Ev.” he reiterates tightening his grip on Christopher.

Evan rolls his eyes, huffing loudly and scratches the back of his neck in defeat. “I’m going to make a couple of... phone calls, now that you’re there, I’m also having a coffee, do you want something from the cafeteria?”.

The two women shake their heads. And Christopher doesn’t seem to listen, so Buck shrugs and walks out the door, not even looking at Eddie.

“Eddie you have to stop being so grumpy, huh. That poor boy has always been here with you... and he was scared to death, you know?” Pepa mumbles.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Evan goes a bit overboard, you know? I’m good.” he adds before focusing on his son. “Hey, I can’t wait to go home so we can do our camping in the backyard, what do you say? It was our plan for this weekend...”.

“Daddy, silly! It’s tuesday! I have school tomorrow, and this weekend I have that sleepover at Joel’s...” replies Christopher giggling. “You hit your head hard, did you forget the days of the week?”.

“Tuesday” Eddie repeats. The last memory he has is of that Friday, in that damned building.

“Eddie let’s not talk now. You were unconscious for the majority of the past few days” abuela mutters gesturing towards Christopher, before bending down to kiss him on the forehead and sitting on the bed. “Evan is calling Ramon, your father has stressed him a lot these days. It took me to prevent them from deciding to come here to create even more panic...” she adds.

“Four days? Is it really four days?” Eddie asks, his voice tight in the back of his throat. 

Pepa snorts and nods again, indicating Christopher who has his head sunk under Eddie’s neck. “It’s true, dad has hit his head pretty hard, Chris, that’s why you’ve been at abuela’s these days, so Buck could take good care of your dad” nods Pepa.

“My Bucky is the best!” chirps Christopher. “In fact, Daddy is really good now”.

“Oh yes, he is” Eddie replies smiling in his kid’s hair, the soft scent of his maple shampoo that annihilates the smell of disinfectants. He tries to smile as his usual, without thinking about the fact that he actually snapped to Buck, like twice for being overdramatic. His heart clenching in his ribcage. “It is only thanks to Buck that I am so well. Thank to Buck and you, as always,” he adds.

Christopher raises his head and gives him one of his impossible smiles. “Does your head hurt?” 

“No, all the hurt is gone as soon as you arrived,” he nods.

“Christopher will stay with me, even tonight and I think tomorrow if they discharge you...” abuela says to him, taking his face in his hands.

“I think I can go out today, they kept me under observation and then we are first responders, we know all the various symptoms by heart... we’ll be fine” he replies. “And Chris can also stay home with us. I’m sure we could take good care of him”.

“Better not. You both need to rest,” mutters Pepa, her eyes stern, the same look as his father. 

“Yes, and then abuela must teach me how to make tamales!” chirps Christopher. “So I teach it to Bucky!”.

“You can teach me too, if you want...” Eddie mumbles.

And Christopher giggles amused. “No, you would burn them”.

“Hey now!” Eddie groans.

A small cough makes him come out of that little bubble. There’s Dr. Ramirez by the door, Evan behind him.

“So, Edmundo... I’d ask the rest of your family to wait outside for a moment, if you don’t mind,” the doc says, his glasses lowered to the tip of his nose as he flips through his file.

Pepa and abuela help Christopher get down of the bed and go slowly out. They greet and thank the doctor politely, and abuela squeezes Evan’s arm with one hand, a small smile on her lips.

He sees Buck say something to Pepa, something Eddie can’t hear properly, Pepa nods and gives him a small pat on his cheek.

“Your scans are clean, we are positive to assume that there seems to be no focal damage, and you’ve had full marks on the battery of tests you’ve performed...” he mumbles. “Evan told me you would like to go home”.

Eddie flashes Buck a smile, a silent thank you that lingers in the air, before shifting back his attention to the doctor. “I wish, yes,” he nods. 

“Well, I don’t see why not. I know you two are first responders. Evan told me you’re a field medic...” he adds. “I’m sure, you will know how to take care of each other,”.

Eddie looks at Buck triumphantly, but he shrugs “If you dare say again that I taught your son puppy eyes, Eddie, I swear to god...”.

Eddie smiles and says nothing, makes the gesture of closing his lips with a zip.

Dr. Ramirez smiles warmly, and then continues. “I wouldn’t let you out if it weren’t for Evan to stay here another day. Both of you must rest, huh?” he grumbles.

Four days at his bedside, that should have been painful to watch. Eddie feels his heart do a very unpleasant leap in his chest. “Sure” he nods, bottling his thoughts back. “Thanks doctor, we will certainly take care of...” he begins to say.

“Don’t make me regret it, Edmundo... Evan was discharged three and a half days ago, but you have been unconscious for almost four whole days… and even if you aced your tests, you may have symptoms…” the doctor reiterates. 

Evan looks away, a little pained expression on his face, but then clears his throat. “I’ll make sure he is alright, doc. Thanks” he murmurs, softly. “As I said previously, he has a very thick skull, he’s always this stubborn, it isn’t because he hit his head…” he adds, a strange fondness in his voice, his smile however doesn’t reach his eyes, which still seem to be the stormy sea.

The doctor laughs softly. “He hit his head pretty bad”.

“You made it very clear in the beginning of this misadventure” Buck says, politely.

“My wife works with Maddie, and she asked to keep an eye on you... normally I couldn’t discharge you immediately, not after all the time you have been unconscious... but the exams are all in your favour, Edmundo, so I expect a full recovery for you," he adds.

Eddie sees Evan breathe a sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing.

“Follow the usual precautions, of course, you know the drill… at the first sign of lethargy, confusion... you have to come back here. I’ll leave you my number, possibly I’ll come and check you in person.” Doc says, handing him a paper card, with an intricate motif reminiscent of a blue Asclepius stick in the corner. “You have cracked ribs, nothing too serious, but you will have to rest for at least a week. No sex for at least three days,” he adds with a serious gaze, pitch black eyes peering at him.

Eddie purses his lips, and nods, trying to keep a serious expression on his face, while Evan chuckles behind him.

“The same goes for you, Evan,” Dr. Ramirez says. “I remember what it was like when I was your age, therefore, hands and appendages in their places for at least a couple of days. If the sense of lethargy passes, and you have no nausea or confusion, or headaches... you can do some little things, but nothing to exhausting, understood?” he babbles, writing a quick note on a white sheet before handing it to Buck. “Follow the protocol and wake him up every three hours, as scheduled until tomorrow afternoon. Here you have the prescriptions, go to the pharmacy before you get to the parking lot. I prepare the discharge form, and you are free now”.

Evan quickly reads the prescriptions. “Those are really strong pain meds. They are giving you the good stuff, Eddie!” he murmurs, before thanking the doctor politely, while folding the sheets in four and putting them in the back pocket. 

When the doctor leaves, Eddie stretches out his arms towards him, in the most inviting way he can. “You asked him”.

But Buck doesn’t even look at him, he walks around the bed and starts to rummage in a bag that Pepa brought just a couple of minutes ago, his back to Eddie. “I’m not a horrible person, Eddie. You want to go home, let’s go home. But at the first sign of malaise I bring you back here, you understand?”.

Eddie could swear to hear all his bones crack when he gets out of bed and reaches for him. “Ev” he calls him softly and squeezes his shoulder. “Could you look at me for a moment, please?”.

Evan executes the order, moving slowly and turning towards Eddie, rising his head, just enough to look at him. So tall, yet he makes himself so small every single time something like this happens. It’s like he belittles himself even more.

“I’m fine, I swear. And if I should feel weak, dizzy, lethargic, have trouble staying awake or... seeing, hearing... standing... I swear, _I swear_ mi amor, I’ll tell you and we’ll come here all over again. I just want to go home, with you and...” he stops.

Evan looks at him, his eyes shiny, watery and red and stretches his arms to pull him on his chest. “Four days, Eddie. Four days.” he murmurs, his face squished in the crook of Eddie’s neck, while he holds him close but his hands and harm are feather-like, as if Eddie was something about to break, something made of thin crystals. And when he rests his head on his shoulder and heaves a long sigh, Eddie feels his heart grow small in his chest.

_Suck it up._ he said. What a horrible person.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know. You didn’t tell me...” he manages to say moving back from Evan’s chest just enough to cup his face and direct it to make him look up. “I’m so sorry, mi amor”.

Evan clears his throat, blinking twice and wrinkling his nose. “Let’s not think about it now,” he says, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. “I’ll help you get dressed and let’s go home, Pepa will take us…”.

Eddie nods, moving a bit to leave a quick peck on his cheekbone. “Great. Have you talked to my father?” he asks softly.

“Your mother, actually. She knew you were going to be unbearable and they would kick your butt, and let you out in no time” he mutters, shrugging his shoulders and moving to retrieve a pair of pants and a shirt from that gym bag. “Her words, not mine. You are the usual adorable Edmundo, all grumpy and growling”.

"Hey!” Eddie grumbles, pretending to be insulted. “I hope you defended me”.

“Of course not, your mama knows you, Eds” he grumbles as he approaches him, one of his shit-eating grins printed on his face. “He’s right. You are lucky that Maddie and her colleague have put in a good word, and I am my usual charming self otherwise you stayed here, your ass on that shitty mattress”.

Eddie reaches out to steal a quick kiss on his lips, a soft smile on his face. And it’s like being in their little bubble again, and Eddie would like to give him more kisses, deepen that contact. Apologizing with his body, before his words, he is not good at words, but Buck withdraws with a grunt.

“We must hurry. You know your tìa is going to be unsufferable… and Christopher has to go to school tomorrow... I have to help you get dressed, go to the pharmacy to pick up your painkillers...” he mumbles.

Eddie groans again.

“Oh come on! Hop, hop!” Buck urges him around to loosen his hospital gown. “Let’s take it easy, okay? You’re all sore and battered,” he adds.

And he is extremely tender, when Evan helps him to pull that piece of cloth away, Eddie seems to be fragile, like crystal, to handle with care. And perhaps the little groan that escapes his lips when he finally pulls that gown away, is only a confirmation for Buck.

“Shit, sorry, sorry” he mumbles, moving slowly to pick up his face and direct it towards his, to rest a kiss on the edge of his forehead. “Let’s do it slower. Luckily they brought you a light shirt, so it’s easier to get you dressed” he adds and focuses his eyes on him. He blinks twice and sighs, before going back to work.

“Hm? What’s up?” mumbles looking down. His chest, his side, are a constellation of bruises. Bad memories seem to mount in his head. The fighting, the well, all those times that could have gone wrong and it was even worse. “I’m fine, Ev, I swear”.

Buck swallows twice and slowly nods his head. “I just have to remember it”.

“I think we have to talk, you and me,” Eddie murmurs, caressing slowly the side of his face, his thumb that reaches for his birthmark. “You have to tell me, _everything_ that happened, alright? Let it out, we are alive. We are alive and kicking, you said that to me, all battered and cracked up, but... we are alive. I’m saying it to you, now”.

And Buck heaves a shaky sigh with a tight jaw. “We are talking home”.

“Yeah, let’s go home,” Eddie murmurs.

And maybe in that speech that awaits them at home, he can actually ask him what hovers in the back of his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for opening this third chapter of Shockwave, and for reading as far.  
> I'm very impressed with the fact that this story had this amount of feedback, thank you.  
> I'm not so sure if this chapter is good enough for my taste, but I may have been re-writing it so many times, space and time have lost their meaning *ahahah*  
> Please, feel free to leave a feedback, and come say hello on [my tumblr](https://lamalefix.tumblr.com/). I take art requests and prompts over there! 
> 
> Take good care of yourself, drink your water and stay at home if you can.

**Author's Note:**

> If you reached the end, you are now my favourite person!  
> Thank you for giving this story a shot! 
> 
> come say hello to me [here](https://lamalefix.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


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